


White Roses

by celestaeil



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestaeil/pseuds/celestaeil
Summary: Anne Neville is starting a new chapter in her life: university. An unexpected evening at the student union bar leads her to meet Richard, a third year History student. Between their Classics class, apple cider and coffee, their relationship blossoms like the white roses growing outside Richard's window. But it won't be without its thorns.
Relationships: Anne Neville Queen of England/Richard III of England, Edward IV of England/Elizabeth Woodville, Isabel Neville/George Plantagenet Duke of Clarence, Margaret Beaufort Countess of Richmond and Derby/Thomas Stanley 1st Earl of Derby
Comments: 13
Kudos: 14





	1. Apple Cider

Anne Neville was about to begin a new chapter in her life: University.

“Are you nervous, Annie? Look at her, she looks terrified!”

“Shut up, Isabel,” the eighteen-year-old retorted, crossing her arms as she sat in the back of the car. Her bright blue eyes narrowed on her sister, whose dark hair fell in neat waves past her shoulders. 

Isabel, the older Neville sister, was superior in every way to young Anne. At least, that’s what Anne had always believed. She was taller, slimmer, prettier. Easy to talk to. Pleasant to be around. One claim that Anne still had, was that she was smarter than Isabel. But the elder Neville girl would graduate this year with a Bachelors in Psychology, so maybe then she would also be seen as more intelligent than Anne.

“Of course she’ll be nervous,” their mother remarked from the front seat. “You were scared on your first day here, too, Isabel.”

Isabel rolled her eyes. “Sure, Mum,” she replied, adjusting her white leather jacket before opening the car door.

Anne stayed in the car as her parents got out, her potted plant on her lap. She had bought the so-called monkey plant during the summer holidays, and had tended to it dutifully for nearly four months now. Hector, the  _ Monstera Adansonii _ , was something of a friend to her at this point, with Anne expressing her thoughts aloud to the holey leaves as he sat on her windowsill.

“Come on, Annie,” Isabel tutted, tapping on the window. 

Anne sighed. She had to face the music. 

“Fine,” she muttered, cradling Hector under one arm as she opened the door. The sun was shining, at least. Although, there were dark clouds on the horizon. There would be rain tonight. 

“Let’s get your things up to your room, eh?” said her father, unloading suitcases from the car.

Warwick Hall was opposite the English Department building, separated by a courtyard filled with trees and flowers. A tiny coffee shop was on the ground floor next to a convenience store, and many students and their parents came and went. The four of them waited in the hallway for the lift, suitcases and bags at their feet. Anne held Hector close to her cable-knit sweater.

“Margaret just texted me,” Isabel said as the lift arrived. “The girls are having a sort-of reunion brunch in town. I can’t wait to see them all again!”

“Are you off now?” asked their father.

“Yes, I have to go and meet them,” she replied. “Annie, did you want to come?” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“No, thanks,” Anne answered. “I’ll just get settled in.”

“Alright, bye, then!” Isabel said, hugging both of their parents. She gave her little sister’s shoulder a brief squeeze before running off, calling, “Catch up with you later, Annie!”

Anne wouldn’t see her sister for a whole week.

The lift doors opened, revealing a young man with dark curly hair and a pile of books in his arms. He had big, green eyes, a serious face and wore a dark blue sweater, the white collar poking out of the shirt beneath.

“Excuse me,” he said, inclining his head. He stepped out, allowing the Nevilles to enter the lift before heading out of the wide doors of Warwick Hall.

“What a polite young man,” said Anne’s mother.

Anne watched as the lift doors closed and the dark-haired guy disappeared from view. She was then too busy chewing on her fingernails to give him much more thought. But she would meet him again that night.

Richard Plantagenet was starting his third and final year at York University. He left Warwick Hall armed with books on Ancient Greece that his friend Harry’s older brother had saved for him. He crossed the courtyard with its little pond, watching a small frog hop from one lilypad to the next. Dappled sunlight warmed his shoulders as he passed under the trees, ducking into a narrow alley that led out towards the houses on the far side of campus.

He would be spending his third year living in one of the posh student houses with his two brothers and a handful of their respective friends.

"Ah, there you are," said his brother, Edward, bounding down the steps to their house, The White Rose. "Are you studying on our first day back?"

Edward had always hated studying. That may have been a factor in him dropping out of his first year at Dartmouth two years ago. Despite being the eldest brother, he was now starting first year with Richard in his third year and George starting a Masters. Edward always looked on the bright side, however. According to him, being a fresher meant more parties, younger girls (and more of them, apparently) and less work. Richard would be inclined to disagree.

"I just needed to pick these up," he with a shrug.

"Nerdy as ever, eh?" Edward said with a grin, nearly slapping the books out of Richard's grip as he playfully hit his arm. "Come  _ on,  _ George!" he yelled over his shoulder.

“I’m coming,  _ God!” _ the answering voice was accompanied by thundering footsteps on the stairs. George Plantagenet joined his brother in the doorway, shaking his brown hair out of his face. The pair of them wore shirts and blazers, one brown and one navy, like a pair of private school boys that were all grown-up. All three brothers had gone to boarding school, of course, though Richard rather went for a more average-bloke-in-the-library look.

“What’s your hurry?” Richard asked.

“Student union bar,” Edward replied, by way of explanation. He slapped the back of George’s head.

“What?” the middle brother demanded.

“The girls aren’t going to pick themselves up!”

“Perhaps many will go back to their dorms alone tonight,” Richard remarked.

“Not if I can help it,” Edward said with a grin.

“And how many will you go home with, exactly?” asked George, raising an eyebrow.

“Just the hottest one,” Edward said, rolling his eyes. “Or two, eh? So shut your mouth,” he added, giving his brother another slap, “And let’s  _ go _ already. Coming, Rich?”

“Well, I was going to…” Richard trailed off when both of his brothers gave him  _ the look. _ “Alright, fine,” he grumbled.

They responded with shouts of excitement and headed out of the house. Richard sighed and left his pile of books inside the doorway. He pulled the door shut and followed his brothers towards the centre of campus, the lock clicking behind him.

The student union bar was in the main building in the middle of campus. It overlooked the college green and, interestingly enough, was directly opposite the university chapel. An oversight to place the bar there when the small chapel had been there for decades previously. But, once inside, it was easy to forget where they were with the lights turned low and music and laughter filling the air.

The three brothers squeezed past a couple on the stairs who made no effort to hide the drugs being passed between them. The doors were open, the low beat leaking through. They showed their IDs and were let in, Edward making a beeline for the bar and slapping his wallet down on the counter.

“Two beers, six shots of tequila, and - what are you having, Richard?” Edward asked, turning round.

“I’ll have a cider,” he replied.

“Come on,” Edward tutted, “That’s a child’s drink.”

“I don’t plan on getting hammered in the next twenty minutes, Ed.”

“And one cider,” he said, shaking his head.

Just five minutes later, they were sitting round a table, joined by a couple of friends and newcomers, bellies warm and faces smiling.

“Richard, you drink like a girl,” Edward crowed, clinking a shot glass with an unknown girl sitting next to him before knocking it back.

“Is this about the cider?” Richard asked over the music and chatter of the bar. “I like cider!”

“Shut up about cider,” Edward tutted, giving Richard’s head a shove. Richard chuckled and ran a hand through his curls, though it made little difference to their unruly nature. “Anyway, this is Emily and- what’s your name again, love?”

“Cecily,” the redhead sitting next to him answered. George was already chatting up Emily, and their friends Stanley and Thomas were already debating politics (they always ended up at each other’s throats about the current state of affairs if alcohol was involved).

Richard took twenty minutes to finish his cider as he listened to the nonsense from his brothers. The bar was filling up, with students mingling and drinking, getting rowdier as the night drew on. The music playing over the speakers changed. A song came on, the ticking beat, then 80s synth chords. Lionel Richie started singing, and Richard looked across the bar. Standing in the doorway was a girl.

Blue jeans, white t-shirt, strawberry-blonde hair. Her bright green eyes were curious, her slight frame slightly hunched with shyness. Richard didn’t know why she caught his eye, but standing there in the doorway with the disco-ball casting sparkles in her hair, he couldn’t look away. He recognised her from earlier that day, when he had walked out of the elevator in Warwick Hall.

_ “Everybody sing, everybody dance, lose yourself in wild romance…” _

“What’s with the music tonight?” Edward asked loudly.

“Tuesday is 80s night,” George replied.

Richard was rising from his seat before he realised what he was doing.

Anne was standing in the doorway to the student union bar. Her eyes flickered over the room, a ball of nerves tightening in her stomach. Her new neighbour, Margaret, was already making her way through the crowd in her crop-top and tight jeans. She was the kind of girl who was seen, who got attention. Anne might as well have been invisible.

No sooner had her parents dropped off her luggage at her new dorm room and bid her goodbye, the door across the hall had opened. Out had come a girl with dark hair scraped back into a high ponytail, fair skin and thick black eyeliner that gave her sultry look. She had noticed Anne standing there and broke into a wide grin.

“Hi, you must be my new neighbour!”

“Hi,” Anne had awkwardly replied, setting Hector down on her desk.

“I’m Margaret Beaufort,” said the girl, “Third year English. Kept my old dorm since the English department’s right outside. You?”

“Anne,” she replied. “Anne Neville. First year English Literature.”

“Fresh meat,” said Margaret, her grin suddenly a little mischievous. “You should come for drinks with me and my friends tonight.”

“Oh, thank you,” Anne began, flustered, “But-”

“You can’t say no,” Margaret reasoned, “Freshers week is the best time to make some new mates.”

“O-okay-”

The older girl took her by the arm and Anne was dragged to the student union bar in her t-shirt and jeans. She felt out of place in her scuffed trainers, clothes rumpled from the car journey. They met others on the way there, though it seemed like none of them were Margaret’s particular friends - she just seemed to know everyone. She chatted encouraging words in Anne’s ear all the way there, somehow convincing her not to run back to the dorms and hide under her duvet. Up the stairs of the main building they went, the music pouring into the corridor.

“You got ID?”

“Yeah,” Anne said, following Margaret’s beckoning hand. The security guard stared at Anne’s drivers license for what felt like an excruciating amount of time. She felt nervous, even though she was eighteen and had nothing to hide.

“Come on!” Margaret told her, laughing at the younger girl’s face.

Then Anne was standing in the doorway of the bar, watching as Margaret went on ahead. The song changed and Lionel Richie’s  _ All Night Long  _ started playing - a classic. Anne loved old music, especially 70s. But she had spent her teenage years listening to almost exclusively 80s. She knew all the words.

Just as she was feeling invisible compared to Margaret, she glanced across the room to find a pair of eyes on her. He was pale with dark curly hair and large eyes that were a greyish green and glassy like the surface of the pond. He was wearing the same cable-knit sweater and collared shirt. The guy from the lift.

The guy with the pile of books and curious eyes. Eyes that had been locked on hers for some few seconds that felt… too long. It was too long to stare. But he was staring too.

_ And now he’s getting up, oh, God, _ Anne thought,  _ What now? Does he want to talk to me? He’s coming this way… _

“Anne! Come to the bar for a drink,” Margaret said, suddenly appearing in front of her. Anne grabbed her arm like a life saving buoy on a stormy sea and allowed herself to be taken to the bar. She perched on a barstool whilst Margaret ordered a round of drinks for her group of friends who had arrived before her. “Back in a sec!” she added, taking as many drinks as she could carry.

As she left, she revealed the guy from the lift. He was sitting at the bar, one empty barstool between them. He smiled slightly, and Anne shyly smiled back.

“Hi,” he said, his voice soft yet deep. It was gentle, like the slightly apprehensive look on his face.

“Hi,” Anne replied, feeling herself blushing. She hoped the low lighting would hide her rosy cheeks.

“I’m Richard,” he said, offering a hand, “Plantagenet.”

“Anne Neville,” she tried not to stammer. Her small hand was completely enveloped in his firm yet careful grip. Some part of her wanted to run her finger-tips over his strong knuckles, perhaps up his arm to see if he was even real. After an eternity, they let go, withdrawing their hands.

“First year?”

Anne nodded. “Are you?”

Richard gave a chuckle. “Third, actually. My brother is a fresher, so he dragged us here tonight.”

“Right,” said Anne, following his gaze to the rowdy table. Margaret had joined her girlfriends at the table next to Richard’s brother and were already starting to mingle. “My new neighbour made me come.”

“Made you?”

“I mean, she invited me,” Anne said quickly, earning a smile from Richard.

“Annie, Annie, Annie,” Margaret cheered, returning to the bar for the remaining drinks. She stopped, glanced from Anne to Richard, and smirked. “Come over when you’re ready,” she told her. “You can bring this hunk as well.”

Anne spluttered but Margaret just laughed as she took the drinks back to the table.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Richard remarked, and Anne smiled in spite of herself. “Did you want to join your friends?”

“They’re not my friends,” Anne replied, “I don’t really know them. That was my new neighbour just then, I met her about half an hour ago, so…”

“You’ll make plenty of friends, I’m sure,” Richard told her. “Once lectures start, as well.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Anne said with a slight laugh. 

“What do you study?” he asked.

“English Literature,” she said. “And you? You’ll graduate this year, won’t you?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “History.”

“Hey, man,” said a guy, his arm around a girl, “Mind moving up one seat?”

“Oh,” said Richard, “Of course, no problem.”

“Thanks, man,” said the stranger, slapping him on the back.

“Friendly,” Richard murmured, giving Anne a look as he got up. He sat beside her, elbows resting on the counter. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh, you don’t have to…” Anne trailed off.

“Call me boring, but the apple cider is really good here,” he remarked. “It’s local to the Yorkshire area.” He noticed her hesitation and added, “Or a soft drink?”

“I think I’ll try the cider,” she said with a smile. “To see if it’s really as good as you say.”

“Two ciders, please,” said Richard, getting out his wallet. It was a dark brown leather one with bits of folded notebook paper sticking out of the pocket on the back. Anne caught a glimpse of what looked like a verse written in small cursive. “If it’s not, perhaps I could make up for it with a coffee sometime?”

_ Damn,  _ he thought,  _ That was too forward. Way too keen - why did I say that? _

“All right,” Anne replied.

“Sorry?” he uttered.

“We can have coffee,” she said, smiling.

“Excellent,” he responded. “There’s, uh, a coffee shop at Warwick Hall, on the ground floor. I seem to recall seeing you there earlier today.”

“Yes, I remember, in the lift,” she said, nodding. “I moved in today.”

“Nice dorms, Warwick Hall,” Richard commented. “I lived there in first year. Now my brothers insisted I live with them in one of the student houses on the other side.”

“You have another brother?”   
  


“Ah, yes,” he said. “George. He’s starting a Masters. Edward is in first year, again.”

“Again?”

“He dropped out two years ago. He’s actually the oldest of us,” Richard explained. “Thank you,” he said to the barista, who placed the open bottles in front of them. “Cheers,” he added, clinking his bottle neck with Anne’s. They each took a sip, the bubbles warming the back of Anne’s throat.

“It is pretty good,” Anne remarked.

“No coffee, then,” he said, clicking his tongue.

“I might change my mind,” she said with a shrug.

“Either way, it was very nice to meet you, Anne,” he told her, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Richard,” she replied, lowering her eyes to her drink as she blushed again.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to get something to eat?”

“Actually, I would. I’m starving,” she said, laughing.

“Then it seems we should do something about that,” he said, getting up and offering his hand.

Anne smiled and took his hand, and they left the student union bar and went out into the cool evening air.


	2. Silver Fangs

The grey clouds covered much of the sky as Anne and Richard went outside into the cool September evening. Students stood around on the green, food stalls lit up with lights and delicious smells. Richard pointed to a Thai stall and Anne nodded, the two heading over. They wound their way between the dispersed crowd, reaching the back of the line to the Thai food truck.

It wasn’t until they were queuing that Richard remembered they were still holding hands. He coughed awkwardly and gave her hand a brief squeeze before letting go. Anne’s cheeks were rosy as she smiled at him.

“You like Thai food?” Anne asked, sipping her cider.

“As a general rule, I like food,” he remarked, earning a small laugh from her. “But Asian food takes me back to my gap year.”

“Really?”

Richard smiled. “Our family always travelled Europe on our holidays, and although I do love Ancient Greece, I thought I should try somewhere else.”

“Where in Asia did you go?” Anne said as they moved forward a few paces in the line.

“Lots of places,” he replied. “I spent most of the year out there: Japan, South Korea, China. I spent a few months in Malaysia and Singapore before coming back home.”

“So exciting,” Anne uttered. “I haven’t travelled further than Paris. I only went for a school trip.”

“Did you finish school before the summer?”

Anne nodded.

“I was tempted to come straight to university,” Richard mused. “But I figured I’d go straight from graduating to working until I die, so…”

“You wanted to travel Asia,” she finished.

“Well, anywhere, really,” he chuckled. “But Asia seemed like a good choice. To get away for a bit.”

“I get that,” she sighed. “Though I kind of came to uni to get away.”

“How’s that working for you?” he asked, taking a swig of cider.

“My sister studies here, too, so,” she said, shrugging, “Maybe not that great.”

“I’m sure you can avoid her,” Richard reasoned. “It’s harder to avoid my brothers, though - I live with them.”

“In one of those posh houses on the other side of campus?” Anne commented.

Richard laughed. “You could call it that. The house even has a name:  _ The White Rose _ . Bit romantic.”

“It is, rather,” Anne said.  _ But it suits you, _ she thought.

“Next, please,” the server said as the students in front of them left with their food.

“What would you like?” Richard asked, getting out his wallet.

“I’ve never had Thai food before,” Anne admitted.

“We could get something else-”

“No!” she said quickly, blushing. “I mean, you choose. I’m fine with anything.”

“All right,” Richard replied, tapping his chin. “I think I know what you might like.” He turned to the server, adding, “I’ll have one Som Tam, one Khao Pad and… one Pad Phak, please.”

“Can we eat all that?” Anne laughed a little in disbelief.

“We can share;” said Richard, “I’m feeling rather hungry.”

“All right,” she said, smiling.

Richard paid for the food and managed to pick up two of the take-away containers in one hand, holding his cider in the other. Anne grabbed the carton of noodles and fried vegetables, her cider bottle still half-empty as they left the stall.

“How fast have I got to drink this now?” Richard remarked, taking a large gulp of cider. He winced. “Fizzy.”

“You don’t have to down it,” Anne laughed. “Here,” she said, trying to stick her plastic fork into the noodles. She shook her head and slid her cider into the back pocket of her jeans, offering Richard a forkful of noodles.

“Handy,” he commented, leaning forward to eat the noodles. Anne smiled, taking a bite herself.

“This is great!” she said.

“Try this one,” Richard told her, nodding to one of the cartons in his left hand.

“Okay, want some?”

The two were walking through the trees by the main building, sunlight breaking through the clouds momentarily.

“Mm,” said Richard, clicking his tongue. “Good cider.” He put the empty bottle in a recycling bin as they went past. “Are you done?”

“Oh,” she said, getting her drink out of her back pocket. “No, but I think I’ve had enough.”

“Maybe we’ll have that coffee, then,” he remarked.

“Maybe we will.”

Richard took the bottle and finished it himself, tossing it in the bin as they walked on. “Ah, Warwick Hall,” he said as they arrived at the courtyard outside the dorms. “I used to sit by the pond, here,” he added, gesturing to the small pond.

“Must be nice in summer,” said Anne, as they crossed the cobblestones to a bench in front of the pond. They sat down and continued eating the Thai dishes, watching the gentle ripples on the surface of the water.

“We should come back after exams finish,” said Richard. He stared at the pond.  _ Why did I say that? _

“If you haven’t left already,” Anne pointed out with a slight smile. “You’ll have finished by then.”

“I won’t have graduated yet,” he told her. “I might still be on campus; Edward made sure to get the summer retainer on the house.”

“Fair enough,” she murmured.

“So your sister is studying at York, too?”

“Yes,” Anne answered, glancing up at him. “She’s in second year, doing Psychology.”

“Interesting. How come you came here, as well, then?”

“Bad grades,” Anne replied, scrunching her nose. “I mean, bad enough that I couldn’t get into Bath.”

“Good enough for here, though?” he said.

“I guess,” she muttered.  _ Good enough family connections to get in here. _

“It’s sort of a coincidence that my brothers and I are all here this year,” Richard mused, setting down an empty take-away container on the arm of the bench. He leaned back, adding, “Technically, I was here first.”

“You said your brother dropped out?”

“Of Dartmouth, yes,” he said, “And George graduated from Manchester; now he’s here to do a Masters.”

“Do you like it here?” Anne asked, putting her empty carton down. Richard smiled.

“Very much,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll love it. I hear the English department is excellent.”

Anne nodded. “I heard that, too.”

“Do you have a favourite author?”

Anne bit her lip. “It’s so hard to pick just one. I once tried to make a shortlist of my favourite books…”

“And?” he prompted.

“It seemed a bit of a pointless task when I got to one hundred.”

Richard laughed, and it was a hearty, joyous laugh as he threw his head back and his white teeth showed in a wide grin. It was unlike his previous laughs of the evenings, small chuckles. It was an infectious sound, and it gave Anne a warm feeling in her stomach. She could have sworn she felt her heart flutter at that sound. 

_ He’s so handsome… _ Anne mentally slapped herself.  _ Shut up, brain. _

“Fair enough,” said Richard. “I’d be the same trying to rank my favourite historical battles. God, that sounds really lame, doesn’t it?”

Anne grinned. “Luckily, I don’t care if you’re a geek.”

“Was that an insult or a compliment?” he mused. “I simply can’t tell.”

The sun was slowly starting to set over the courtyard by Warwick Hall. Anne felt a chill up her bare arms and hugged herself, watching the amber sunbeams on the surface of the pond. Richard glanced at her, before realising that he hadn’t brought a coat, or jacket, or anything with him when he came out that evening. He sighed, drawing Anne’s attention.

“I would have offered you my jacket, but I didn’t bring one,” he commented.

“That’s alright,” she said, though goosebumps sprung up on her arms.

“It’s not; I always bring a coat,” he disagreed. “I’m always the one person with an umbrella or raincoat when there’s no chance of rain.”

“Can’t be too careful,” she reasoned.

“Exactly,” he said, clicking his fingers. “You know what, have my jumper.”

“Really, it’s fine-”

“I don’t want to be the reason you catch freshers’ flu,” Richard told her, shrugging out of his sweater and offering it to her. He pulled his shirtsleeves down and crossed his arms after she reluctantly took the jumper from his hands. “I have sleeves, I’ll be fine.”

“In October,” she pointed out, the jumper still warm in her hands. “And if you don’t have the flu, I don’t think I would catch it from you.”

“I would have caused your immune system to weaken in the cold,” he said in that gentle way of his, “and that is unacceptable.”

Anne hid a smile and pulled the jumper on over her head. The sleeves fell past her fingers and it gaped a bit at the neck, but overall it was soft and cosy. It smelled of pine and coffee and was like getting a warm hug.

“That’s better,” he remarked, reaching over to carefully pull her hair from where it was stuck in the sweater. “Still cold?”

“Not anymore,” she replied. Anne felt like she could sit there, in that moment, and talk to Richard for hours. They could talk about anything and nothing. They could be silent.

It was like the two of them could sit in that moment as the world continued to turn, the sun set, and everyone else moved on without them. Such a moment in time would be content forever.

“It is getting a little chilly,” Richard said, after a few of those precious moments. “I barely noticed the sun setting.”

The lampposts around the edges of the courtyard cast a warm glow over the dark space. The surface of the pond was inky black, covered in the glittering reflections of the lights. The sky was grey, only a pale smudge of moon showed from behind the clouds. Richard began to shiver.

“Now you’re cold,” said Anne, her brow furrowed, “You should have this back.”

“No, keep it,” he said quickly. “I mean, there’s no use in you getting cold again. Perhaps I should walk you back.”

“Thank you,” she replied, getting to her feet. Richard picked up the rubbish and threw it in a nearby bin, before returning to the bench. “Let’s go,” Anne added, and the two walked side-by-side towards the entrance of Warwick Hall.

“It was lovely meeting you today, Anne,” Richard said quietly as they walked across the courtyard. They were walking so close together that their shoulders brushed every so often (Anne’s shoulder only reached the middle of Richard’s bicep, which made her feel awfully small).

_ He’d be awfully good for hugging, though,  _ she thought,  _ what with him being so much bigger than me. _

She realised that Richard was staring at her. “S-sorry,” she stammered.

He smiled. “I wondered if you had grown tired of me already,” he mused.

“Never,” she said, aghast. “Just… lost in thought, I suppose.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said, blushing.

“I just said how lovely it was to meet you tonight,” he told her as they reached the doors. He held one open for her.

“Ah, yes,” Anne uttered, ducking through. The word ‘lovely’ sounded exquisite coming from his mouth. “It was really nice meeting you, too.”

“I hope we meet again,” he said as they stood in front of the lift. He pressed the button.

“We’ll have coffee,” she replied, glancing up as the lift pinged at the ground floor. The doors opened and she fished in her pocket for her room key.

“Yes, I’ll look forward to it,” Richard said. “Goodbye, Anne. See you soon.”

“Bye, Richard,” she responded, stepping into the lift and pressing for floor four. She gave a little wave as the doors began to shut. Richard took a step backwards, inclining his head.

Then the doors closed, hiding him from view.

Anne gave a little squeal, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “Oh my god,” she mumbled, her whole face hot. “Oh my  _ god.” _

She managed to keep herself together until she got up to her room and unlocked the door. As soon as she was inside, surrounded by boxes and the door was firmly locked, Anne let out a shriek and began doing what resembled a ritual rain dance. She could absolutely not believe what just happened.

“Oh, shit,” she uttered, stopping mid-dance. She face-planted the bed, which was rather uncomfortable since she hadn’t made it yet. “I didn’t get his number.”

Anne rolled over, sighing heavily at the ceiling.

“You had one job, Anne Neville. How are you going to see him again now?”

Downstairs, Richard was standing in the lobby in a similar predicament.

“Damn you, Richard,” he muttered. “How could you forget that one simple thing? We didn’t set a date or time for coffee, or even a meeting place...” He ran a hand through his curls, a shiny object catching his eye.

A small keyring lay on the wooden floorboards, the chain broken. Upon closer inspection, it was a silver charm shaped like vampire fangs. Richard picked it up, the object heavy in his palm.  _ Anne must have dropped this,  _ he thought,  _ there was nothing here when we arrived.  _ He remembered something shiny on Anne’s keys when she got them out, so the silver fangs could only be hers.

Richard gave a sigh, looking up at the lift, which was coming back down to the ground floor. He had no idea which floor she had gone too, much less which room was hers. As tiredness tugged on his eyelids, he decided to go home. He could figure out how to return the keyring in the morning.

***

A whole day had passed and Anne had spent most of it, holed up in her tiny dorm room, reading. Albeit small, her new bedroom was pleasant and cosy. She had made the bed last night; white sheets, a mustard yellow blanket and a handful of mismatched pillows and cushions. Hector sat on the windowsill, south-facing, the sun rising on the left and setting on the right of Anne’s horizon. A few post-it-notes were already peeling off the walls, her class timetable pinned on the noticeboard above her bed.

And then there was Richard’s dark blue sweater, draped over the back of the chair, strangely looking like it belonged in the room as well.

Anne was perched on her chair, one leg drawn to her chest as she underlined a sentence in her set text for English Literature Core Studies 1.

“As dull as expected,” she remarked, setting down the pencil and leaning back. 

One sweater sleeve brushed her arm, and it was like Richard had slung an arm around her and was reading over her shoulder. She shook off that thought along with the sweater, but grabbed it and hugged it to her chest. It still smelled like him.

“How am I supposed to return this?” she muttered. “I feel like I’ve stolen it.”

There was no way she could loiter around campus hoping to bump into him. There were some thirty student houses on the edge of campus, and he could live in any one of them. Even her most confident self wouldn’t be seen dead knocking on strangers’ doors to return one sweater.

“Maybe he’ll be missing it, and he’ll put some effort into locating me,” she mused. “Not in a stalker-ish way- yeah, he’ll never do that…”

Anne yawned. Her stomach growled quietly.  _ I should get something to eat… _

She got up, picked up Hector and slid her feet into her plastic sliders. Maybe the shop might have some plant food, too. Anne left her room stuffing a tenner in her pocket and locking the door behind her. Her keyrings felt light in her hand; realised her silver Dracula fangs were missing.

“Classic me,” she muttered. “Always losing something…”

Anne went down in the lift to the ground floor, the doors opening to reveal Margaret standing there with her friends from last night.

“Annie!” the older girl exclaimed as the first year came out into the foyer. “Where did you run off to the other night?”

“Oh, um, I met someone,” she replied, sidestepping Margaret and heading towards the convenience store.

“Really?” Margaret practically gasped. “Wait, you left the bar with Richard Plantagenet, right?”

“You go, girl!” one of her friends, a blonde, added.

“Yeah, actually…” Anne mumbled, entering the store with the older girls following her.

“Punching above her weight,” one of them remarked.

“Bit harsh,” the blonde said. “Ignore her,” she told Anne. Her tone was kind, but having all of the girls crowding around as she tried to pick out instant noodles was overwhelming.

“You must tell me everything, Anne,” Margaret said, her eyes bright with both interest and mischief.

“Maybe later,” Anne said, laughing uncomfortably.

“Booze, ladies?” one of the girls said, drawing most of the group over to the other side of the store.

“I know we can be a bit much,” Margaret chuckled. She laid a hand on Anne’s arm. “But I want us to be friends, Annie. I could be like your older sister!”

“I have an older sister,” Anne mumbled. She shifted Hector the pot-plant to her other elbow and picked up a carton of orange juice.

“Wait, what’s your last name, again?” Margaret asked as Anne paid for her groceries, setting Hector on the counter. “I swear you remind me of someone…”

“Neville,” she replied. “My name is Anne Neville.”   
  


“Oh, shit, yeah! Is your sister Isabel? Second Year Psychology?”

“Yes,” Anne said, struggling with her grocery bag and pot-plant as she headed for the exit. Margaret’s friends had finished buying their alcohol by the time they were back in the foyer again.

Margaret laughed, almost in disbelief. “No offense, but you seem nothing like her.”

_ None taken, that’s a good thing…  _ Anne thought, but she just nodded awkwardly.

“Hey, you should hang out with us!” said the blonde.

“Tell us more about the guy,” one of the others, a girl with short dark hair added.

“I can’t believe you could get off with a guy like that…”

“Fancy a drink with us? We’re heading to Lottie’s place.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Uh, no, thanks,” Anne said, trying to edge her way out of the group of older girls.

“Oh, come on.”

“Don’t be a drag…”

“Annie, it’ll be really fun,” Margaret offered, her hand landing rather heavily on Anne’s shoulder.

Hector went tumbling out of Anne’s grasp. Before she could even register what was happening, the pot was smashed on the floor, soil spilling out and the green leaves limp. Tears welled in her eyes. All she could think was to get out - as soon as she could. She pushed and shoved past the other girls, practically sprinting for the lift. It opened immediately, and Anne ran in, smashing whatever button she could reach first. The doors closed.

Anne wouldn’t see their reaction, and she wouldn’t see who had paused in the entrance of Warwick Hall, having witnessed the latter part of the situation.

The girls in the foyer were silent for a second, but most of them shrugged, muttering something in disinterest. Margaret glanced towards the lift, but was pulled by the arm by one of her friends, and they headed out of Warwick House, barely noticing that Richard himself was standing to one side of the double doors.

Richard Plantagenet glanced down at the silver keyring in his hand, his gaze shifting to the broken pot-plant in front of the lifts. He walked over, assessing the damage. He didn’t know much (anything) about gardening, but the plant didn’t seem to be in terrible shape. 

The dark-haired student went into the convenience store, purchased a plastic shopping bag, and began the task of scraping the remains of the pot-plant up.


End file.
